Sherlock Holmes returns
by Ponderess
Summary: Two elements I think John's and Sherlock's first meeting after "The Reichenbach Fall" should contain, brought into a little context for your amusment.


**Sherlock Holmes returns**

John tried to avoid late night walks these days. Whenever he was out and it was dark the uneasy feeling of being watched crept down his back. He had accepted the paranoia as one of the many disimprovements since his best friend had died. His social interactions were mostly made up of casual talks with his landlady Mrs Hudson and occasional visits of Molly Hooper. A few times he'd had word from Gregory Lestrade and once or even twice Mycroft Holmes had contacted him. But that had been shortly after the death of the world's first and only consulting detective.

Sherlock Holmes had left a big emptiness in John's life. There had been the articles claiming of him to be a fraud and seeing their proof in Sherlock's volunteer fall from the rooftop of St. Bartholomeow's Hospital. They had enraged John so much that he couldn't read the papers for several months. Then there were Sherlock's personal things. Mrs Hudson had stored the science equipment in the basement, but the rest had stayed where it had been. John had placed the violin in the empty leather chair. He would spent a lot of his time in his own chair facing the instrument of his late friend.

This evening John had been forced to go out, since there was absolutely nothing left for him to eat and Mrs Hudson was at a friend's house. He had told himself that the store was close enough to walk there, but on his way back he once again felt that shivering down his spine. Gritting his teeth together and shaking off the thought of taking a cab, he hurried back to his flat in Baker Street.

On stepping into the hallway he saw light coming from up the stairs. Had he forgotton to turn it off when going out? Or had Mrs Hudson returned from her friend and was about to look after him? It couldn't be Molly paying him a visit, could it?

Carefully he made his way up, which wasn't too easy with the old wood of the stairs creeking under his weight. As he got closer to the door of his flat he could hear footsteps. Someone was pacing up and down, impatiently waiting for something. John's arrival maybe?

He took the last few steps up and burst through the door into his living room. This way he thought to have the element of surprise on his side. But he was wrong. The man that had been walking up and down the room did not show a sign of surprise at John's entrance, he merely had stopped pacing to look at the war veterane and his grocery bag.

John on the other hand could not help gaping in surprise at what was unmistakingly his late friend Sherlock Holmes. And then for the first and the last time in his life he fainted.

When John came to again, Sherlock was kneeling next to him.

„I somehow thought of you as a man with stronger nerves," the taller commented, the shadow of a smile gracing his lips. John was still too baffled to speak. His brain seemed to take a very long time processing the new information that his best and dearest friend whose death he had been mourning over the last three years had returned to Baker Street 221b and looked very much alive indeed.

„Alright, let's get you off the floor," Sherlock continued, seeing that John would not respond. With his arms slung around his friend's back, he dragged him onto his feet. But the smaller man still seemed not to be able to stand on his own feet, because he staggered worryingly. It was probably best for him to sit until he had fully recovered. The consulting detective carefully lead his friend around the spilled contents of the grocery bag and headed towards a chair.

„You... you're alive," John stammered, having trouble moving his feet over the floor.

„Yes, I am indeed."

„You're alive," he repeated after a pause, his voice becoming stronger again. Before Sherlock could confirm this a second time, his friend freed himself from his supporting hands and moved away. Then he turned and faced him, his feet becoming ever steadier. „You're alive!" John exclaimed and without any warning punched the taller man in the face.

Sherlock stumbled back in surprise and held his cheek where the veteran's fist had connected. Then he gazed at him and watched as he moved around to calm down. He hadn't imagined their reunion like this. Neither had he thought of John to faint, nor had he expected to be punched by him. His fake suicide must've hit his friend more than he'd guessed.

„Feeling better now?", Sherlock asked after a while.

„Yes," John answered with some heavy exhales, while his breathing was still accelerating.

„I'm sorry I kept you in the dark about this."

„It's... good to have you back."

„It's good to be back," Sherlock replied.


End file.
